


Not Cool, Man!

by hato



Series: Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda [2]
Category: Aliens (1986)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hato/pseuds/hato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hudson just wants to sleep. Vasquez and Drake are way too loud. And Hicks is an ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Cool, Man!

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNINGS:** DUBIOUS CONSENT, Hazing, Explicit Sexual Relations, F/M/M, Swearing.  
>  **A/N:** THIS INVOLVES 3 ADULT PARTIES, ONE OF WHOM IS NOT THRILLED WITH THE METHOD BUT IS SATISFIED WITH THE END RESULT. This can be triggery for some, reader discretion is advised.  
>  **Disclaimer:** _Aliens_ does not belong to me. I am trying to fix it for the sake of my own wrecked childhood.

Hudson pulls a deep frown. The one that Hicks says makes him look like a spoiled brat but fuck him ‘cause it’s not Hudson’s fault he has a baby-face. And he doesn't want to think about fucking and Hicks in the same line of thought right now. Not with the man himself sleeping peacefully in the next bunk ( and Hudson is so envious of his superior’s ability to crash that way regardless of situation). 

Or the couple on the other side of Hudson, going at it with obscene enthusiasm. 

Not cool. Not cool at all. 

It’s Vasquez’s bunk. But she shares it on a regular basis with Drake for about 45 minutes or so a couple times a week if their missions allow it. And right now, they’re between missions, doing nothing but training exercises and equipment maintenance. 

And Drake just got in a new, state-of-the-art hand cannon this morning. And Vasquez has already modified it for him to make it half as weighty and twice as lethal.

Foreplay. Pure and simple. 

They've been fucking for nearly 20 minutes. Full on fucking, Drake sticking it in the second Vasquez rolls over to stick her ass in the air which is about 2 seconds before Drake actually gets to her bunk. 

20 minutes of squelching and gasping and the dull slap of skin on skin. With another 30 minutes to go. 

Fuckin’ A, man! He could choke on the scent of sweat and sex in the room. 

Hudson has no idea how Wierzbowski on the other side can sleep so close to all that. Or anyone else in the small room. Apone is snoring at the other end of the row, opposite Hicks. Dietrich is breathing easily, a hand rising and falling on her chest. Crowe is the same. Frost is mumbling quietly in his sleep, something about chickens and dress inspection. Frost is so weird, man. 

And he’s lying here, eyes squeezed shut, dick tenting his shorts, unable to follow the most basic rule of military life. _Ignore private moments. Even if they’re happening right under your nose._

Vasquez groans. Drake grunts. The slapping sound increases. 

Hudson pulls another face. The one that always makes Hicks laugh even when Hudson feels like anything but laughing. Irritated. Frustrated. He rolls over on his belly, pulling the pillow tightly over his head. Can still feel the slight vibration of the bed moving rhythmically. And this position doesn't do much more than make him very aware of the firmness of the mattress beneath his hips. 

To hell with this. If Hudson has to ignore their private moment, then they can damn well ignore his. He spreads his thighs, lifts up. Just enough to squeeze his hand between the bed and his crotch, tug his cock through the slit of his shorts, grip his hard-on in calloused fingers. Feels good. Not great, but better than nothing. 

He’s three strokes and the beginning of a really good fantasy in when he hears a voice more coherent than grunts and groans. Hudson ignores it. Just Frost and his weird dreams. Jerking harder, concentrating on the image of Wierbowski’s sister. Tits and ass and not a thought in her pretty little head... 

The voice again. Definitely talking to him. “ Got ya... all hot and bothered... little boy? “ Vasquez. Words halting. 

Hudson barely pokes his face out from under the pillow. Rough whisper, not wanting to wake anyone else. “ Shut up, goddamnit!” He’s still pulling on himself, working on his fantasy. Miss Wierbowski is currently looking up at him with beautiful brown eyes while she sucks him off. He pulls his hand off just long enough to spit into it, add the saliva to his cock. Much more enjoyable experience. 

Low laughter. A deeper voice. “ Can’t even... get himself... off!” Drake snickering between grunts. “ Pussy.”

“ Fuck you!” Hudson blindly throws the pillow at the other bunk. 

And finds himself dragged out of his own bunk, fingers like titanium bands wrapped around his wrist yanking him into the space between. Eyes snapping open in surprise, Hudson gets a flash of naked skin and wild hair before his ass lands on the hard, cold floor. He’s hauled against Vasquez’s bunk and held in place by an arm much more solidly muscled than his own against his neck. Vazquez herself. Drake’s grip on his wrist tightens. 

Trapped. Struggling. Breathless. While his comrades continue to fuck the holy hell outta each other. Hudson wants no part in this. “ Stop messin’ ‘round!” Tries to stay quiet, doesn't want anyone else to wake up and see this. The scent of musk, sweat, pussy juice and pre-cum. Too fucking much. He’s smothering in it. And his stubborn dick isn't helping matters. Still hard and wanting. 

Hudson curls his free hand around Vasquez’s arm, fights against Drake’s hold, attempting to escape. “ Let go! ” 

And for a split second, Hudson thinks it worked. The arm around his neck loosens, moves. The hand around his wrist lets go. He sucks in a deep breath, muscles tensed to lunge back toward the safety of his own bunk. 

Instead Hudson lets out a startled yelp as Vasquez reaches down and takes an almost uncomfortably firm hold of his cock hanging out of his shorts. 

“ What the fu-” And a hand clamps down over his mouth. Drake’s. Hudson has his head pushed back, craning on his neck, until the back of his skull is pressed firmly on the mattress. Looking up into two pairs of glinting eyes, wicked white smiles in the darkness. And he’s scared shitless and a little sick to his stomach and still horrifyingly turned on. 

He can’t escape. Not from these two. Hudson’s a techie, for Chrissakes. Oh yeah, he can kick ass as well as any soldier, but these two, Vasquez and Drake eat punks like him for breakfast. They can probably kill him a dozen times over, in this exact position, without even breaking rhythm. 

Between the hand on his dick and the one almost smothering him Hudson is a dead man. In every way possible other than the actual, physical death that his pride is crying out for. 

His dick doesn't give a shit about his pride, however. Hudson gasps and gags behind the heavy hand. Vasquez has more calluses than him, thicker ones, rougher. Rasping over thin skin. Forcing out more pre-cum. Mercilessly jerking him off. But Hudson can’t do anything but buck up into the tight fist. 

Drake’s fingertips sink into the flesh of his cheeks. Hudson thinks he might have bruises tomorrow. Decides he doesn't care. Closes his eyes and refuses to open them again. 

Wishes he could shut his ears. 

“ God, baby... you’re so fucking hot! Do it harder, harder!” 

“ You like watching... watching while you fuck me, yeah!” 

It takes a few moments, a few more crass comments, before Hudson finally realizes they’re talking about him. _Him!_ Drake telling Vasquez just how to handle his dick. Vasquez putting on a show for Drake. They’re using him for their own sick, twisted fantasy and fuck if that thought isn't enough to send him right over the edge in a humiliatingly short amount of time. 

Hudson jerks and spasms, eyes rolling back in his head under the half shuttered lids. 

And then he’s vaguely aware of being released. Of being pushed by two sets of hands toward his own bunk that he can’t possibly make it to under his own power because that’s not how afterglow works, dammit. The sound of creaking bed springs intensifies, the couple obviously done with him and returning to their previous activities with renewed fervor. 

Hudson glances back and wishes he hadn't. Drake is licking Vasquez’s hand. The one covered in Hudson’s spunk. Hudson lets out a pitiful little whimper of a noise and shuts his eyes. Blindly crawls back to his bunk, grabbing his discarded pillow on the way. Manages to flop on top of his blankets, careful to keep his sensitive flesh away from the rough material by curling up on his side. Facing away from Vasquez and Drake who still have 10 minutes left. He’s pretty sure he’ll be asleep before then. 

Doesn't bother tucking himself back in. Let everyone get an eyeful at reveille. 

He’s actually blocked out the sounds of fucking from behind him, a mere step away from sweet sweet sleep, when something else disturbs the relative quiet. Something familiar, from nearby. Hudson frowns again and cracks open an eye. 

Hicks. Still lying on his back. An arm thrown over his face. Body shaking in irregular breaths, practically convulsing. 

The bastard is laughing. Hicks is laughing at him. 

That’s it. His face heats up like a flare. Hudson grabs his pillow and hisses, “ Fuck you, man!” He rolls out of bed, swearing as his exposed dick is rubbed the wrong way against the blanket. Hits Hicks with the pillow. Hard. Hicks chokes a bit, but doesn't stop. 

“ I’m outta here! ” Hudson rips the blanket off the bed and heads toward the exit. He can sleep in the Requisitions office with Spunkmeyer. 

Just before the door closes behind him, Hudson hears the entire room explode into laughter. 

Sometimes, he hates being the rookie. 

**end**

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** I always try to grade up a notch when it comes to trigger issues. Situations differ from person to person and I don't want anyone to be uncomfortable. Nor do I want to write an essay dissecting this bit of writing or defending my choice of scenario. To me, this fictional situation is about messing with a teammate; Hudson doesn't feel violated as a person, he enjoys the sex, he's just mad because he thinks they still treat him like a kid (though if he stopped being so immature, he would notice that they all jerk each other around because that's what friends do when they trust each other, but I digress.) 
> 
> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos' and comments!!!


End file.
